Trail of Rifts

by David Bokman

  As Jaio stood admiring the ship, a man who must have been admiring his boots walked into the Laentarian, knocking them both to the ground. Jaio landed softly, instantly scanning the port for danger. The other man landed heavily, and did not seem to scan much more than the ground in front of his nose. The assailant looked like a wealthy merchant or artisan, most likely from the east.

  “Hrmph! Who stops in the middle of a port?” The merchant stood up, brushing his clothes off. “Not used to this area, are… Hang on a moment! I recognize you!”

  “You do? Sorry, I am not good with faces.” Are you someone I’ve aided or attacked? Jaio thought, trying to remember where he had seen the face of the round merchant before.

  “I do indeed. You’re the friend of the people who helped me take back one of my manors back in Grensby! The friends of my friends are my friends, too. Do not worry yourself about our little incident, it happens to the best of us!”

  Someone I’ve attacked, then, but at least he does not know it. What did they say his name was? Grigol? “Oh, of course! I recall now. I am happy I could help them in their mission, and that it had a happy ending.”

  “Most happy indeed! With those damned bandits in that manor gone, and the keys back in my hands, I could give the manor to Deston, and he absolved my debt on the spot! Just like that! You saved my life, young man, whether you know it or not.”

  I wonder if this ‘Deston’ will be as happy when he learns of the rift outside the manor, thought Jaio. But who knows, maybe that will increase the manor’s value even more. “Ah, it was the least I could do for my old friends! But enough dwelling on the past, what brings you here? No offense, but you are not one who I imagine spends a lot of time in West Kardh’Ao.”

  “A ship. There has been some commotion at one of my estates north of here. I would normally not trouble myself, but seeing as the owner of the neighboring estate is a lord, I have little choice. You?”

  “I live here,” said Jaio. “I was visiting old friends down in Arlsby, but now I am back here. I… run an enterprise whose details are best not spoken of in the light.”

  Grigor let out a hearty chuckle. “I understand completely. Well, if you wish to travel north, I am sure I could find a spot on the ship for you.”

  I do wish to, but not with the likes of you. “Thank you. Another time, perhaps. Right now, though, I really ought to get going. A pleasure meeting you again.”

  Grigor lowered his head in the quickest bow Jaio had ever seen, before walking further down the port. Jaio took his eyes off the man and spotted a coin pouch left behind on the ground. From the looks of it, it carried a tidy sum of coin. The Laentarian looked down at the pouch, then back at the merchant, then back at the pouch again. Damn it, Jaio. “Excuse me?” he shouted, grabbing the attention of the merchant.

  “Yes?”

  Jaio held up the pouch in reply. “I believe this belongs to you.” Though I have half a mind to keep it for myself.

  The Captain of Northern Respite did not look like any man Jaio had met before. The tattoos on his arms were almost entirely covered by feathers, and in place of a mouth he had a large, yellow bird’s beak. He stood perhaps five feet tall, but as was often the case here in Kardh’Ao, spoke as if he was fifteen feet. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can tell me where you are headed, Captain.”

  “Or I could not.”

  “Ah, I had hoped you would honor my emblem, but I was prepared for the alternative. Say, could a few golden suns loosen your tongue?”

  “Aye.”

  Jaio handed the feathered man a handful of suns, and the Captain said, “Place called Alko’s Peak, or rather, the port next to it. Few weeks north of here, a quiet and cold place, nowhere you go for pleasure.”

  “I am not looking for pleasure, so your destination will do me just fine.”

  “I didn’t say you were welcome.”

  “Ah, you mean you didn’t say how much it would cost me.”

  “Forget it, it’s not—”

  Jaio unfastened a pouch on his belt. “This is fifty suns.” He unfastened an identical one. “This makes it a hundred.” He unfastened two smaller ones. “This brings it to a hundred and forty. We leave today, I hope that is no trouble for you, Captain?”

  The beaked man’s eyes were round with gold-lust. “Welcome aboard.”

  The Captain, who had revealed his name to be Isaiah the Third, commanded a strange bunch of sailors. Jaio had grown used to the sight of nonhumans during his time in Kardh’Ao, but this was far beyond what you would see in the streets of the city. Out of the almost forty people on the ship, he was the only human. The others differed in shape and size and appearance so much that the Laentarian did not even bother figuring out where they hailed from. As long as they get me to my destination, they might as well be rocks for all I care. The only crewmembers Jaio bothered to acquaint himself with, save for the Captain, were the Quartermaster and the Bo’sun. The Quartermaster, a middle-aged man with strange burns across most of his pink skin, said his name was Cain, and did not seem to be a man you wanted as your enemy. The Bo’sun called herself Asta Annasdotter. Her broken, crooked nose and scarred ears indicated a rowdy past. Jaio had thought Asta to be human at first; none of her features seemed to differ from his own. It was not until he shook her hand that he realized his mistake. Her hand was cold as ice. This is far beyond what can be explained by cold weather, he thought. This is the hand of a cold-blooded creature. He did not wish to know more than that. But what kind of crew is this? The sailors do not look like sailors and the Captain does not look like a captain.

  His suspicions were only increased once they got underway, as several of the sailors struggled to keep their balance, let alone do their jobs. No, Jaio decided almost before they had left the port that he was not among a real crew of sailors. But they will have to do.

  Thanks to his generous donation to the Captain, Jaio had been given his own quarters to rest and sleep in. While not of impeccable standards, they would suffice as a place of privacy, which the Laentarian desperately needed. I will not let these people see me vomit my guts out, lest I make this journey quite a bit more painful for myself. He had only been on a long sea voyage once before, shortly after the fall of Laentar. On that voyage, he had quickly come to realize that he was not suited for a life at sea, nor was his body. The normally composed and controlled Laentarian could get thrown off balance at the slightest hint of a wave, and his stomach attempted to empty itself every time the ship creaked. Not a recipe for a good sailor. Jaio had hoped he would somehow have gotten better at handling life at sea since last time, but he had not. Hopefully he would acclimatize quickly, or this journey would mainly consist of scrubbing his quarters clean.

  After a few days at sea, Isaiah asked Jaio to join him in his quarters. They seemed to have made good progress despite the crew’s lack of skill, although Jaio was not a good enough navigator to say if they were going in the right direction or not. The Laentarian sat down in the well-decorated quarters and was poured a drink by the Captain. He had quickly learned not to ask what was in the food or drink, but to just accept it and pray it did not kill you. “How are the seas treating you so far?” asked Isaiah. He spoke with a relaxed voice, almost too relaxed for Jaio’s liking. The seas had been treating Jaio better, but he was still doing far from well.

  “Very well indeed, Captain. I had all but forgotten the joys of open waters.”

  “If you say so. Listen, I’ll be blunt: we’re not the owners of this vessel.”

  Jaio took a sip of the drink, which tasted strong and bitter, yet surprisingly pleasant. What an incredible surprise, he thought. “I had suspicions in that direction, yes. Will you tell me who you truly are, now that we are far enough out at sea that I cannot report you to any authorities?”

  “You ever heard of The Black Sheep?”

  “I’m not familiar with the cuisine of this land, I’m afraid.” In reality, Jaio knew very well what the Captain was speaking of; t
he criminal organization of misfits in East Kardh’Ao called The Black Sheep were notorious for their violence and brutality. They give us bandits a bad name.

  “We’re not a kind of food, we’re misfits. Persona non grata, all of us. Kardh’Ao did their best to get rid of us, so we got rid of some of them, too.”

  “Ah, so you’re a band of murderers on the run?”

  “We’re a band of people who have done nothing wrong, save for being born as nonhumans. And we only kill because it’s the only way the people in power listen to us. And we’re not on the run from the authorities, we’re on the run from whatever caused that hole in the ground to appear. That was the last straw. Knowing the Townmaster, she’ll be quick to pin it on us misfits. Blame the nonhumans, always works, doesn’t it? Just because I have a beak doesn’t mean I can summon rifts with my bare hands.”

  “Take a drink and take a breath, Captain. I understand your predicament. I myself have not always been met with open arms.”

  “On account of strange personality?”

  “On account of my strange homeland.”

  Isaiah took a sip of his drink, and continued, “In any case, that is the only thing we have not been forthright about. But we are still headed for Alko’s Peak, and you are still welcome to join us for the entire voyage, if you can keep your mouth shut about this, and it doesn’t bother you.”

  “Ah,” Jaio laughed, “I have travelled with people far worse than you, trust me. Far worse indeed.”

  ⧫ CHAPTER XVIII ⧫

  There was a solemn atmosphere surrounding the camp the following morning. The heralds all conducted their morning routines in silence, all up until it was time to leave. “Should’ve known,” said Cadwell. “Should’ve seen through his ploy, shouldn’t we? Only ever looks after his own skin, that one. Damn bandit.”

  “He wasn’t a bandit!” said Florianna. “He helped us! He’s our friend.”

  “Yeah, real friendly of him to just up and leave like that.”

  “If he didn’t want to be here it would’ve just been a matter of time until he found a way to get rid of us, anyway. No point dwelling on it. We’ll meet him again one day. Today, we have ground to cover,” said Mae, readying her horse. She spoke true; if they wanted to reach their destination before the snow set in, they needed to press on. And I don’t want to be stuck in Vestrok come winter. “Weather seems good,” she continued, “so I say we push the horses today. They can rest later. The sooner we get to the Shattered Fields, the sooner we can get away from them.”

  These damn roads are going to be the end of us, thought Cad. The small pathways they travelled on went over rocks and roots and debris, and for long stretches they had no path at all to follow. The last few days, it had only gotten worse. I’ve seen what happens to a horse that takes a wrong step on a path like this, and with these people riding them, it’s only a matter of time until one does. “Careful!” he shouted to Na, seeing her lead her horse straight towards a section of uneven rocks. “Around the rocks, damn it! If your horse breaks a leg, it’s you that’s going to have to put it down.”

  By now, the heralds were also beginning to feel the drop in temperature that was to be expected in the northern parts of the land. I’m glad Cad had the forethought to get us warmer clothes, thought Sam, feeling a hundreth cold shiver run through his body. I wonder how a place can be this cold. Perhaps a magic spell went awry here too, like back home in Grensby? Whatever the reason for the cold, Samson did not appreciate it. Perhaps you never should have left Grensby at all if you can’t handle a bit of cold weather, he caught himself thinking, but quickly silenced the thought. No. I can handle the cold, and I will. That’s Thim talking, not Samson.

  After the fifth day on the road, Florianna had finally gathered enough courage to ask a question long overdue. “Cadwell?” she said, shortly after they set off from the camp. “You told me that you would tell me about yourself if we survived our first mission. Does that promise still stand?”

  “You know more about me than I do about you, magician. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but I want your story in return.”

  Florianna thought for a moment, decided they were very far from Velema, and said, “That’s fair. So, who were you before… this?”

  “I was in the army most of my younger life.”

  “Lies!” said Mae. “Cadwell was at least half a century old when he was born, I’m sure of it.”

  “Let him finish.”

  “This was back when this land was split in two, when the east was an independent nation. Nowadays, every damn village has their own ‘army’, but back then, we in the west had an army, and we fought the army in the east for control.”

  “And we won?” asked Sam.

  “Nobody ever wins, but more of them than us died. I served for a couple of decades, made a decent name for myself.”

  “That would explain why Stonehand addressed you by your rank,” said Mae.

  “Yeah. I was a lieutenant for three years, back when the war was at its peak. Saw a lot of death. Caused a lot of death, too.” And now I’m out here, pretending that not killing anyone for a few years has made it all alright.

  “Did you quit when the war was over?” If Florianna remembered her history right, the war Cad spoke of ended just a few years after she was born.

  “I didn’t quit, I was discharged. Few years before the war ended.”

  “Why?”

  Cadwell hesitated for a moment. What the hell, what’s the worst that can happen? he thought, after a moment of deliberation. “I discovered some pretty nasty corruption in one of the big noble families of Kardh’Ao. When I say we fought for the west, that essentially means we fought for Kardh’Ao. Technically, we fought for Velema, but it was Kardh’Ao that managed our funding, equipment, you name it. I went to my captain with my findings, and he told me he’d investigate. Next day, that captain was a lieutenant, and I was dishonorably discharged. ‘Treachery’, they cited. Seems the corruption went deeper than I knew. I joined a local militia for a few years after that, trying to regain my honor. Didn’t much like it, so I tried a different one, with the same result. Last thirteen years I’ve worked alone, taken jobs as a mercenary, a bodyguard, what have you.”

  “You don’t want to go back to the military?”

  “If they don’t want me, I don’t want them. I want revenge.” Cadwell took a breath and realized he had probably said too much. “Time for your story now, I think.”

  “I’m from Velema!”

  Cadwell let out a short laugh. It was hard to tell what it meant; part of it sounded mocking, part of it sounded indifferent. “I know. Your parents rich?”

  “I… yes.”

  “You spend time in the royal halls, I bet, dining with rich merchants and handsome lords and ladies?”

  “I’m… technically a lady myself.” Not that it would ever have mattered. “I have eight older siblings, so I’m not important!” she quickly added, seeing the surprise on Cadwell’s face.

  “Your father is some high lord?” Cadwell was no longer making fun of the situation.

  “Yes, but he rarely behaves like one.”

  “And you’re a… Right. Of course. We’ve been travelling with a noblewoman this entire time. She’s not only an arcanist, she also has more money than any of us will ever see in our lives. Okay.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Mae mainly sounded annoyed.

  “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself when we were still close to Velema. I… sort of ran away from home.”

  “So we have a rogue noblewoman, who is now also a Herald of Kardh’Ao, with us. Because why wouldn’t we have? Listen little Princess, if any other bears attack us, stay behind me, will you? I have enough to deal with as it is, I don’t want the bloody monarchy after me as well,” said Cad.

  “Don’t call me that! I’m not a princess. I’m barely anyone at all. Everybody in Velema has a fancy title, it’s all for show. I ran away because I didn’t want to be a part of that
show. I’m not some fancy noblewoman. I’m Na.”

  “Whatever you say, Princess.”

  “You ran away from that life?” said Sam.

  “It does indeed sound exceptionally stupid,” agreed Cadwell.

  “I was a ghost in that place, attending pointless lessons and useless banquets. If I had stayed, I would probably have gotten married off to some prince or nobleman or rich merchant that I’d never heard of. Out here, I’m just me. It’s better out here.”

  Probably a big reward for bringing her back safely, thought Cad, but for once he kept his thoughts to himself. “So all the times we’ve been in trouble, you could’ve just made it go away?”

  “Yeah, she’d just exercise the power of being the ninth child, of whom nobody has ever heard of. That’d work great.”

  “You asked for my story, and that’s my story. How I use my title is up to me.”

  “Of course, Princess.”

  The days passed quickly on the road, and before they knew it the heralds had, according to Mae, made it halfway to their destination. Today, the rain fell heavy. To the fright of Samson, in whose world rain was already a strange oddity, the rain eventually turned to ice. “What is this northern weather?” he asked, covering his head with his left arm. “Not only is it cold, but the sky itself is now our enemy, too?”

  “It’s frozen rain, Sam, no more malicious than that.”

  “Well, I would prefer for it to unfreeze itself.”

  “Welcome to the north,” laughed Cadwell. “The weather is cold and the rain is angry and the people are inhospitable. Real paradise.”